


Contribution

by diemarysues



Series: A King and her Burglar [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, Fluff, Genderswap, Talk of Pregnancy, but just talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to the prompt: <i>First one is serious 'do we or don't we have babies together', Thorin and Bilbo discussing whether one or both or neither should carry and conceive a child?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Contribution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elluvias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elluvias/gifts).



Looking back on it, Thorin should really have sprung for a better opening question than “Would you like to have children?” But it’d been easier and more natural to go for the most direct method; it was how she approached all aspects of her life, after all.

 

Bilbo stared dumbly at Thorin for long moments. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

 

Thorin snorted. “You, of all people, should be very well acquainted with what’s between my legs.” She leered and grabbed Bilbo’s hand. “I could give you a demonstration, if you like.”

 

“No, no, no!” The Hobbit snatched her hand away and stalked to the fireplace (though she couldn’t quite hide her grin). “We’re supposed to be having a discussion. A _serious_ discussion.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Bilbo sighed and held up one foot to the fire, warming the underside of it. Her arms she wrapped around her middle. She was a Hobbit, and a healthy one, so her belly was nicely rounded and not all because she was with child. Bilbo tried to imagine herself pregnant, and failed.

 

Before she could switch feet, Thorin came up behind her and slid her arms over Bilbo’s. Bilbo frowned a little at her feet, one toastily warm and one still-cold.

 

“I would know your thoughts,” Thorin rumbled, before ghosting her lips behind Bilbo’s ear.

 

Gazing at the flames with half-lidded eyes, Bilbo explained. “I think, when you visited Bag End that night, you might’ve arrived at the Shire too late in the day and left too early to see that, well. Hobbits have large families. It’s really not uncommon for parents to have upwards of four children.” She thought of the Brandybucks and their brood of seven strong.

 

A startled noise escaped from Thorin. “We’d heard rumours of your kind’s virility, but…”

 

She snorted. “Not everyone is focused on creating families.” Just mostly everyone.

 

The pressure of Thorin’s lips was a little firmer as she pressed them to Bilbo’s hair. “You don’t want children?”

 

“I don’t _know_.” She pressed back against her wife’s bulk, feeling lost. “I’m an only child, and I was always out exploring by myself. I don’t know what it’s like to deal with little children, not really.” Bilbo bit her lip. “People have said unkind things about my refusal to settle down.”

 

Oh, no one had said anything to her face. (Well, perhaps no one but Lobelia, but she’d never been shy to say what she wanted.) But to be a Hobbit lass past 50 without even one child to show for it? It was an unspoken agreement that such a thing was a disgrace – and that Bilbo was either barren or too _strange_ for her own good, never mind her respectability.

 

Thorin kissed her again, this time atop her head, and tightened the circle of her arms. “It is not your fault.”

 

Bilbo’s laugh was so bitter that Thorin actually recoiled.

 

“Not my _fault_?” The Hobbit pulled away from Thorin and started pacing before the fire. “I made the choice. I chose not to accept the attentions of any of the Brandybuck boys, or, or Odo Proudfoot that one time he asked me to dance. I chose to fall in with the girls, and I chose not to ‘grow out of it’ when I came of age. I _chose_ to live alone after my parents left me. So it is my fault, Thorin Oakenshield, and rightly so.”

 

As Thorin watched her wife agitatedly walk back and forth, she couldn’t help but recall tales of strange cats from the far South, as fierce as Wargs and only half their size. Her burglar was very much like one of those lionesses, even in her silks and brocade.

 

Still, she had listened carefully to Bilbo’s rant – and something bothered her.

 

“What do you mean, you didn’t ‘grow out of it’? Grow out of what?”

 

Bilbo turned her face away, though not before Thorin caught the dejected expression upon it.

 

“In the Shire,” Bilbo said carefully, “lads and lasses are free to tangle with whoever they want – until they come of age. Then they get married and have children and such things are never brought up again.” She cupped her elbows in each hand. “I never wanted to be part of that.”

 

Thorin tentatively skimmed her fingers across Bilbo’s shoulders. “That sounds lonely.”

 

She laughed, the sound broken and jagged like shattered glass. Thorin winced.

 

“I know I have you now. That’s what’s important, not – not whatever I felt then.”

 

The King whirled Bilbo around, hands firm around the Hobbit’s arms. “It was important. It _is_ important. Everything about you is important.” She gently knocked their foreheads together. “I am sorry I could not spare you that pain.”

 

Bilbo’s small hands fisted in Thorin’s over-tunic. “‘S not your fault,” she said thickly.

 

“Hush.” Thorin carefully pecked Bilbo’s lips. “Let’s ready ourselves for bed.”

 

They did so in silence. If Bilbo took a longer time than usual, and needed prompting from Thorin more often than not, neither of them mentioned it. She only spoke when Thorin bid her to sit at the edge of the bed.

 

“Do _you_ want children?”

 

The motion of the brush paused for a moment before Thorin continued drawing it through long brown hair. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t a little interested in the idea.”

 

Bilbo said nothing.

 

“I helped Dís with Fíli and Kíli, after all.” Thorin chuckled. “Those two were sweet as babes. You’d not know it to look at them now.”

 

“They’re still sweet,” Bilbo protested.

 

“They’re complete hellions,” she replied, unruffled. “And you only think they’re sweet because they bat their eyelashes at you whenever they get in trouble.”

 

“And since when has that ever worked?” Bilbo’s shoulders slumped minutely. “Thorin, I… if, if we went through with this – what would happen to Fíli?”

 

Thorin put the brush aside and proceeded to finger-comb Bilbo’s hair; completely unnecessary, but she enjoyed doing it all the same. “He will remain the crown prince.” She absently twisted curls around her fingers. “I announced him as my heir long ago, when he was but twenty. I was so certain then that I’d never meet my One.” Thorin touched the soft skin of Bilbo’s neck.

 

Bilbo was silent for a long time. “I think that makes me glad,” she said quietly. “That any child of ours would likely not be King.”

 

If anyone asked, Thorin would fastidiously deny that her heart skipped at the mere mention of ‘child of ours’.

 

Abruptly, Bilbo twisted to face Thorin, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

 

“You haven’t exactly explained how either of us is supposed to become pregnant,” she pointed out, a little nervously. “I mean, I’m certainly not going to bed someone just to, just to –” She broke off hastily, scowling. “And I’m _not_ going to let anyone do the same to you. I –”

 

“Peace, Bilbo.” Thorin smoothed a hand over her wife’s cheek. “Neither of us will be laying with anyone. Don’t worry.”

 

Bilbo cast a suspicious look at her wife, but subsided. “Explain properly, then.”

 

“Our birth rate has always been low. It’s not helped by the fact that we’ve so few Dwarf women.” The corner of Thorin’s mouth lifted a little. “In fact, that my family was blessed with two daughters was considered a sign of prosperity. Thrór believed that it was due to the influence of the Arkenstone.” She huffed, smile gone from her face.

 

Bilbo placed a hand on Thorin’s chest, over her heart, but said nothing.

 

After a beat, the King continued. “Few of our kind marry, and fewer still between opposite genders.” A work-rough hand came up to cover Bilbo’s. “It was suggested once, long ago, that Dwarf-men and -women be made to procreate together, to boost the population. Needless to say, none of the other Dwarves took kindly to this idea. That Dwarf was ordered out of all the mountain kingdoms, and his beard was shorn before he was banished. Vefur was his name.” Thorin snorted a little.

 

Bilbo thought about her life in the Shire, and imagined what would have happened if someone had forced _her_ to marry. “That’s _horrible_.”

 

“His idea? Yes, it was. But no sane Dwarf is going to let any other person dictate their fate.” Thorin tapped Bilbo’s knuckles absentmindedly. “At any rate, the healers eventually developed a way for a willing Dwarf-woman, married or no, to conceive. The male Dwarf that contributed could be a part of the child’s life, if the mother agreed to it.”

 

The Hobbit frowned. She was sure she was missing something. “What would the male Dwarf contribute?”

 

Thorin’s silence was amused. “What do you _think_ , dear one?”

 

Bilbo was proud to say that she didn’t blush. Much. “Ah.”

 

“Does that put you off the whole idea?” She tried to hide her disappointment. Bilbo would have looked more beautiful than ever, if she was pregnant.

 

“No? I don’t think so, at least.” Bilbo bit her lip before she looked up into Thorin’s eyes. “I need more time to come to a decision.”

 

The King drew her close to bestow a kiss on her brow. “That you’re considering it at all is more than I hoped for.”

 

Her braids were tugged so that she could be treated to a proper kiss. Soft warmth curled in Thorin’s belly as she held her wife close. Mahal had truly blessed her with Bilbo, and Thorin believed that their life together would only be enriched by the pitter-patter of tiny Dwarf – or Dwarf-Hobbit – feet. But such things would have to remain dreams for now.

 

Not long later, Thorin tugged the blankets up around their shoulders and tucked her Hobbit more securely into her arms. She settled her chin atop Bilbo’s head and closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be another busy day.

 

The fire crackled and snapped, and a Halfling stirred.

 

“Wait,” Bilbo said, yawning. “Which male Dwarf would we _choose_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear, oh dear. I can't seem to stop. Who'd've thunk that Thorin wanted babies? Not me when I wrote this. Then again, I hadn't expected there to be angst. *side-eyes brain, which is actually very hard to do*
> 
> And yes, I did give the Dwarves artificial insemination. I'm sure there's the Dwarvish equivalent of turkey basters somewhere. *snickers*
> 
> (Yes, also, that I had to use that title. I apologise.)
> 
> Unbetaed.


End file.
